Perpetual Motion
by down periscope
Summary: Harry and Ruth. Set series 8 after Jo's death.    There was something he just couldn't quite define. Her need of him, his need of her, the change they elicited in each other whenever they were together.


It has been a while …

Not quite sure how to work the formatting. Hopefully it turns out okay.

Set series 8 after Jo's death

Thank you for reading

.ooOOoo.

* * *

After hearing the soft sobs his grief seemed to compound. Somber notes, death and faces all crushed together, darkening the surroundings. He stares blankly knowing he has to sideline the anguish, compartmentalize the feeling and stay in the present. _Every time_, he berates himself, _every time I lose one they all rear to the surface_. Remembrance. Methodically, he shuts down, placing dead bodies one by one back into their rightful places.

Again he hears her.

_Not now Ruth_, he thought shutting his eyes.

It wasn't the prospect of comforting her that made him hesitant but the sheer emotional restraint that was required whenever in her presence. Frankly, today he just couldn't do it. So he sat defeated, on the edge of his chair listening, punishment for his cowardice.

On the way home Harry contemplated in silence. The black car, perpetual motion, blended with the black night. He felt a familiarity. He was alone. Processing alone, irritated and alone, being driven home alone. Late in the day Ruth had brushed off his feeble attempt at redemption and declined his lift.

"To tell you the truth Harry, I just can't do this, with you now," was her reply before walking away. Short and open she always was. Harry did not push the matter any further. He never did.

The car lights continued to whisk by and despite all that happened that day he thought of her. There was something he just couldn't quite define. Her need of him, his need of her, the change they elicited in each other whenever they were together. _Together_, he thought, a word of layered meaning. We are together at work, separated at home. The car stopped and so did Harry's train of thought. He was home, ready to go through the motions. Key's in bowl, coat to hanger, tie off, shoes by door and one hand on the bottle. He stretched his neck left then right, settled on the sofa and retrieved his mobile. Dialing without thinking, Ros' number rang out as he knew it would. He rang again.

"Yes, Harry. I'm fine." Ros' voice sounded tired, professional and a little patronizing.

"Just doing my duty," Harry replied, a small smile at his lips. Glad to see I am predictable."

There was silence while Harry sipped his whiskey.

Ros spoke, "I'm not quite sure what you want me to say, Harry. Every time I see her, I'm not quite sure what to say to myself."

Harry contemplated before responding knowing nothing he offered would be sufficient.

"Just tell yourself there was no other way …and if there was it is no use now. When you start replaying alternative actions in your head shut them down and remind yourself, there was no other way. It's an internal process Ros, one you will not wish upon anyone… coming to grips with the mortality of others at your own hand."

More silence

"If you ever want to talk," he offered awkwardly.

Ros knew he was only trying to help but right now all she wanted to do was forget Jo altogether. Forget her and hang up. So she ended the conversation. "Thanks Harry, I'm sure one day when the stars align and my conscience is severely inebriated we will compare stories on death and mortality. Till then I'll keep it all on the inside and let it stew."

Harry chuckled at the sarcasm, the feistiness of Ros and the blunt concealing of her feelings. "Ok, until such a time Ros, I will keep my stories to myself."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Ros."

As the phone went dead he listened to the sound, _Beep_. _Beep_. _Beep_. The sound of finality. Sitting back he rolled up his sleeves, turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. He hadn't even realized that Scarlet had seated herself between his legs until he got up to get another drink. "Sorry girl," he whispered, passing her by before turning back and scratching her behind the ears. "Sorry," he repeated. Though this time he wasn't sure what he was really sorry for.

By the third drink he had decided to call. Not for himself, but for Ruth. The though of her, crying in the corridor, waiting for him was saddening. Dialing with feeling he waited. It was past 12 but he knew she'd answer. She always answered.

"Ruth," he anticipated as the line picked up.

"Harry," was the strained response. He could sense that she was exerting great effort to stay composed.

"Just wanted to check you're okay," he felt like a coward after he had said it.

Why had he not just pulled it together like he normally did and comfort her when she was distressed earlier? Ruth caved quietly and covered the phone to muffle her sobs. Harry listened as he had before, grief compounding. There were so many futile words of comfort he wanted to express but he stayed reserved.

"Ruth," his voice cracked a little, "Meet me tomorrow early, before work." The crying slowly resided. "We'll talk or just sit," he continued exasperated trying to somehow let her know that everything will be okay. Silence followed. Harry was now feeling a little vulnerable. It was all building up and he knew it was getting too much for him to rein in so he gave in.

"I would like to see you' he finally admitted to himself... I would like to see you now." He let go, breathing heavy.

Ruth, a little taken aback by the tone in his voice and the forwardness of his words took a while to calculate and respond.

"Now?" she stammered.

Brushing away his insecurities Harry pushed further. "Ruth, I'm tired. I will not sleep tonight and for the first time in a long time I want company and the company I want is yours." Truth be told, Harry knew he didn't have the reserves to keep holding back. He just wanted to see her, be near her. Erect some form of togetherness, with her.

It was frightening, his need for her, yet Ruth knew he tried to tame it, lock it up and hide it. After all, that is what she asked from him, strength and restraint. This was the limitation she imposed on him and it appalled her. "Ok," Ruth replied, unsure how things would pan out.

"Okay," he breathed out. "Good. I will be over soon," and he hung up.

He showered, dressed and grabbed his keys. The drive to Ruth's was quiet and surreal. Once again he was in transit, gliding past starry lights, feeling the perpetual motion take hold. Harry knew his senses were dulled as he sat staring at the red light turn green before him. _Beep_ - _Beep_, he heard. _Beep_, again. Finality and encouragement. "I'm moving, I'm moving," he muttered as he put the car in first. "Don't rush me." The car moved forward.

Before long he had arrived. Locking the car he walked, hands in pockets to the front door. It opened as he reached the top step and there she stood, red cheeks and glazed eyes, letting him in, no resistance. Harry's head was hazy as he sat on the sofa. Ruth hadn't spoken a word and he didn't care. He felt warm, connected, comfortable. Reclining in the sofa his eyes closed. "Thank you," he said, resurrecting his form of togetherness.

Ruth watched him in fascination. His defenses down and emotions surfaced, a Harry at peace. She left the room to make some tea.

Harry sat forward on the couch as Ruth handed him his cup. She sat down beside him and together they drank in silence. He looked at her every now and then and she wasn't unnerved or dismissive. Ruth could not remember a time when things had been so calm between them. Their day had been marked by death and anguish yet they were being calm and responsive to one another. This was not lost on Harry either as he placed his cup on the table and looked at her again. Ruth met his gaze and he slowly reached for her cup placing it on the table next to his. She did not move.

"Come here," Harry whispered pulling her hand and moving her closer to him. He placed her hand on his chest and wrapped his arm around her lower back. "Are you ok?" he asked, savoring the warmth, the ease and the feel of her body next to his. Ruth snuggled deeper into his neck and nodded. Harry closed his eyes and held her.


End file.
